I'm Coming
Quote from CohentheWriter on 10. May 2022, 7:19Museum Link: https://app.museumofcryptoart.com/collection/permanent-collection?collection=0xb932a70a57673d89f4acffbe830e8ed7f75fb9e0&token=11190&page=3
Source Link: https://superrare.com/artwork-v2/i%27m-coming-11190
Date Minted: June 19, 2020
Artist Description: The more I think about you, the more I want to get closer to you...
CohentheWriter’s Commentary:
Debbie H.’s distinctly hand-drawn style makes her art unmistakeable and inimitable. It also adds a certain narrativistic quality to her oeuvre, as each piece seems to bleed into the next in terms of its color, design, and technique. I’m Coming is only one of 11 pieces in Debbie H.’s Superrare creation page, though it is perhaps the greatest exemplar of her work, not just in composition, but in tone and sensibility too. One can see clumps of Debbie H.’s work where she appears fascinated by certain color combinations. However, I’m Coming sits at the theoretical midsection of all these chromatic choices, a representation of the artist at the point at which she emerges out from her physically darker previous style and into something lighter and more internally cohesive. Thematically, it demonstrates Debbie H.’s growing fascination with both femininity and with female faces. It is the turning point of her oeuvre. It represents the coalescing of the artist’s vision around a central thesis. And it’s more than worth a few moments of your time.
If for nothing else than the cotton-candy color selection, the soft groovy interweaving of purples, reds, and royal blues to calming, island sunset effect. Debbie H.’s artwork is characterized by this kind of interlaced color, the soft transitions from hue to hue, backgrounds all transparently inspired by the evening sky. It’s also characterized by a certain cartoonish art style. Not cartoonish in the way of saturday-morning cartoons, but cartoonish in the way of hand-drawn or cell-shaded works, a far-cry from realism, and a utilization of highly-artificial compositional techniques. Between these two —composition and color— abstract images begin to emerge, like that here of a woman’s face, though one without clear outline and without clear form, more a collection of female features than a singular or identifiable female skull. It’s only half of her face we see, positioned almost like a Drama Mask, this one quiet and contemplative, eyes closed, and framed by a few phantom fingers from a few phantom hands underneath and around its edges. She has red lips and a mole underneath her nose. She has a winged strip of rainbow color which swoops down from below her eyes: red and black and white and blue and purple in tight concentric lines. In all these various spaces —eyeliner, eyelid, fingernail, and skin too— colors merge and flow into and out of each other; every color seems to be in a state of changing into another. In the face’s left hand, two fingers clutch a pair of glowing flowers, one leafy, the other tall and auburn. Overlaid atop the entire image is a shifting, transparent, liquid pattern which oozes down onto the image and rearranges itself before disappearing altogether, like something sticky, viscous, globbing into globules.
In I’m Coming, I see two different readings which at first seem vastly dissimilar: that of the sorrowful and that of the sexual. Let’s start with the latter, something communicated not just in the female face’s intimate and vulnerable expression, but in the piece’s colloquial title, a reference to orgasm and something I believe is emphasized by the nature of the oozing liquid which pools atop the piece’s surface. An interesting compositional choice, to make us aware of the screen we see the piece upon by intimating from within the piece that the surface is made of glass. And the effect indeed mimics that of liquid pooling upon glass. The female figure, her one visible eye closed, could very well be in the throes of pleasure, and there’s something vaguely erotic about the color palette too, the soft parade of firework hues. A fair share of Debbie H.’s female faces have a more overtly delirious, classically-orgasmic look, whereas the face in I’m Coming seems much more internally-minded: eyes closed and hands focused on self skin. The presence of flowers —found elsewhere in Lotus Romance— emphasizes this sexuality-based reading, at least as far as my exposure to flowers-as-vaginal-motifs is concerned.
But again, I’m affixed to a feeling of deep melancholy within this piece. The same face that might be mid-orgasm may also just as well be on the verge of tears. With the flowers and the hand holding the face, I’m reminded of an unrequited lover, and those liquid pools might just as well be tears.
Perhaps there’s no difference between the two readings, and they’re two sides of the same lovesick story we’re watching played out here. I’m coming might be a story of sex and loss. It may be a story of love and sex and regret. There may be an entire emotional narrative we’re seeing captured in between the colors and the composition, all the coalescing of a heartbreak onto the backdrop of a night sky, the sun going down, the day over. And what are we left with? Remnants. A few flowers plucked up from the ground, held tight but soon to wither. The last dabbed streaks of makeup. The last romantic dregs of a sunset. The remembered feelings of something wonderful now lost. And in the very bottom of the background, we can just about see the sun, bereft of its light, falling down into the clouds.
Source Link: https://superrare.com/artwork-v2/i%27m-coming-11190
Date Minted: June 19, 2020
Artist Description: The more I think about you, the more I want to get closer to you...
CohentheWriter’s Commentary:
Debbie H.’s distinctly hand-drawn style makes her art unmistakeable and inimitable. It also adds a certain narrativistic quality to her oeuvre, as each piece seems to bleed into the next in terms of its color, design, and technique. I’m Coming is only one of 11 pieces in Debbie H.’s Superrare creation page, though it is perhaps the greatest exemplar of her work, not just in composition, but in tone and sensibility too. One can see clumps of Debbie H.’s work where she appears fascinated by certain color combinations. However, I’m Coming sits at the theoretical midsection of all these chromatic choices, a representation of the artist at the point at which she emerges out from her physically darker previous style and into something lighter and more internally cohesive. Thematically, it demonstrates Debbie H.’s growing fascination with both femininity and with female faces. It is the turning point of her oeuvre. It represents the coalescing of the artist’s vision around a central thesis. And it’s more than worth a few moments of your time.
If for nothing else than the cotton-candy color selection, the soft groovy interweaving of purples, reds, and royal blues to calming, island sunset effect. Debbie H.’s artwork is characterized by this kind of interlaced color, the soft transitions from hue to hue, backgrounds all transparently inspired by the evening sky. It’s also characterized by a certain cartoonish art style. Not cartoonish in the way of saturday-morning cartoons, but cartoonish in the way of hand-drawn or cell-shaded works, a far-cry from realism, and a utilization of highly-artificial compositional techniques. Between these two —composition and color— abstract images begin to emerge, like that here of a woman’s face, though one without clear outline and without clear form, more a collection of female features than a singular or identifiable female skull. It’s only half of her face we see, positioned almost like a Drama Mask, this one quiet and contemplative, eyes closed, and framed by a few phantom fingers from a few phantom hands underneath and around its edges. She has red lips and a mole underneath her nose. She has a winged strip of rainbow color which swoops down from below her eyes: red and black and white and blue and purple in tight concentric lines. In all these various spaces —eyeliner, eyelid, fingernail, and skin too— colors merge and flow into and out of each other; every color seems to be in a state of changing into another. In the face’s left hand, two fingers clutch a pair of glowing flowers, one leafy, the other tall and auburn. Overlaid atop the entire image is a shifting, transparent, liquid pattern which oozes down onto the image and rearranges itself before disappearing altogether, like something sticky, viscous, globbing into globules.
In I’m Coming, I see two different readings which at first seem vastly dissimilar: that of the sorrowful and that of the sexual. Let’s start with the latter, something communicated not just in the female face’s intimate and vulnerable expression, but in the piece’s colloquial title, a reference to orgasm and something I believe is emphasized by the nature of the oozing liquid which pools atop the piece’s surface. An interesting compositional choice, to make us aware of the screen we see the piece upon by intimating from within the piece that the surface is made of glass. And the effect indeed mimics that of liquid pooling upon glass. The female figure, her one visible eye closed, could very well be in the throes of pleasure, and there’s something vaguely erotic about the color palette too, the soft parade of firework hues. A fair share of Debbie H.’s female faces have a more overtly delirious, classically-orgasmic look, whereas the face in I’m Coming seems much more internally-minded: eyes closed and hands focused on self skin. The presence of flowers —found elsewhere in Lotus Romance— emphasizes this sexuality-based reading, at least as far as my exposure to flowers-as-vaginal-motifs is concerned.
But again, I’m affixed to a feeling of deep melancholy within this piece. The same face that might be mid-orgasm may also just as well be on the verge of tears. With the flowers and the hand holding the face, I’m reminded of an unrequited lover, and those liquid pools might just as well be tears.
Perhaps there’s no difference between the two readings, and they’re two sides of the same lovesick story we’re watching played out here. I’m coming might be a story of sex and loss. It may be a story of love and sex and regret. There may be an entire emotional narrative we’re seeing captured in between the colors and the composition, all the coalescing of a heartbreak onto the backdrop of a night sky, the sun going down, the day over. And what are we left with? Remnants. A few flowers plucked up from the ground, held tight but soon to wither. The last dabbed streaks of makeup. The last romantic dregs of a sunset. The remembered feelings of something wonderful now lost. And in the very bottom of the background, we can just about see the sun, bereft of its light, falling down into the clouds.